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User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/Twelve Stars of Taneth: Chapter 6
Chapter 5 Thanks for reading, as always, be wary of errors. For more background read these pages: Crimson Archer Daireg Whistles Keshik Reign of Chaos Tidon al Din Shayera al Din Juliette Tharn Chapter 6: Gilane in the Shadows Aleera stood, peering over the war table. It was the middle of the night. She tried to go find sleep, but she always ended up back here. Ways to try and combat Tidon ran through her mind. Strategies to use against the Daedra occupied her everything. Her father’s plan would work. Making Tidon think the Keshik were coming would cause him to react, while the bulk of their forces could actually be spent on holding back the Daedric tide. It worked, and it didn’t work without him. Aleera didn’t like that. She loved and respected her father, but the man was past his prime. He’d handed this kingdom onto her. She no longer saw him as fit to lead, and it was frustrating that the others didn’t. Shayera had always firmly been on their father’s side, and Crimson’s quick thinking to deal with Tidon would make the other siblings—Conner, Julius, and Hakim—think perhaps he still knew best. Aleera had to change that, find a way to bring them back to her side. “Alright, Aleera, what is it.” A tired voice came. She turned to the open doors into the war room, as various members of the al Din family filed in. Conner and Shayera were in their uniforms, looking fresh and wide awake, while Hakim and Julius had the appearance of men who had just rolled out of bed. And one of them was the king of Taneth. It was Hakim who had spoken. Aleera eyed Hakim with distaste, as he rubbed tired at his eyes. He was everything a king shouldn’t be. He second guessed himself, was incompetent of most stately matters, hated giving orders, was far too polite, desperately wanted to please every, and didn’t appreciate the power his station gave him. A thousand times over Aleera had lamented that her father had not passed the crown to her. As the sole Queen of Taneth, things could’ve been so different. “Wait.” She told him. Finally, Sahir filed in last, in his own uniform, full of energy and wide awake. “Midnight meeting?” He asked, walking into the room. “Is it pub night?” Shayera rolled her eyes. “No.” “Could’ve fooled me.” Crimson said, pulling a flask out from his jacket and taking a sip from it, then offering the flask to Shayera. She stared at it for a moment, before shrugging, and accepting the flask. She nearly spit it out half way through a sip. “What is this?” She mumbled, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. “Apple juice.” Crimson told her, taking the flask back and taking a large swig of it. “Got to keep your stomach on its toes.” He said, patting his belly. Shayera shivered, and turned to see the wry look Aleera was giving both of them. “Done?” The Lady of Taneth asked. Shayera nodded. “I’m never finished.” Crimson answered in a melodramatic voice, but Aleera ignored him, pressing on. “Word came back from our scouts. Tidon braced his troops for an attack. He pulled them back into their forts. The signal from Reyvadin Tower reached back to Gilane. He thinks a full scale invasion is coming.” “Glorious.” Crimson said, tapping the model of Gilane on the three-dimensional war table’s map. “So we move in then. Small sneaks into the city, makes its way to Tidon. And by small force, I mean me and Shayera.” “Just the two of you?” Aleera said. “You want us to risk everything so you can get your shot at Tidon to do, what, convince him he’s doing a bad thing? It’s not going to work.” Crimson canted his head at her. “Why not?” “Because Tidon’s confidant. He feels empowered. After being stowed away alongside the Janissaries for so long, he finally feels like he’s making a difference. And he is.” Crimson frowned. “Is how?” Conner stood over at a far side of the war table, arms folded, and spoke now. “Our allies are mobilizing, as are Gilane’s. The entire eastern half of the province stands with us, because to them Tidon is still part of Taneth. Skaven, Dragonstar, Elinhir, Rihad. But Hegathe and Stros M’kai stand with Gilane. And if they’ve got Stros M’kai, it also means they’ve got one of the largest naval and marine forces in Tamriel.” “What about Sentinel?” Crimson asked. “It’s staying neutral, for now. King Lhotun sympathizes with Gilane, but doesn’t want to pick a fight when there are so many cities backing us, and he’s trying to be above infighting among the Crowns and Forebears. Hegathe and Stors M’kai won’t attack until they know they stand a chance, and they won’t do that until Lhotun picks his side. And it won’t be us who he chooses. Technically, we started this.” “Well, it’s good ta know I’ve got my work cut out for me then.” Crimson said. “Might as well get a move on, Shayera. Grab your gear, we’re rolling out soon.” “Wait, hold on there.” Aleera said. “This is a matter for debate.” Crimson lifted his chin, processing what she had said, lips purse, before shaking his head. “No it’s not. Sorry, just me and kid number seven are going to take this one.” “Number seven?” Shayera asked. “Forgot your name there for a moment.” “Dad, you may have ran the show around here two years ago, but that was then.” Aleera said. Other people are in charge now.” Crimson glared at his daughter. She was ambitious, prideful, and a politician to her core. Crimson had had trouble finding fault with her before. Aleera had always been the perfect one. Responsible, poised, in control. All those traits lent themselves to masterful rulers. Aleera’s only obstacle was the fact she had been born a woman instead of a man, and by tradition could not have been crowned monarch. Crimson had always wondered if he would’ve made a better decision by screwing tradition and naming Aleera his heir. It would’ve taken care of her ambition issue and need to prove herself to him. That was probably the most difficult part of Aleera. She didn’t realize it, but Crimson had always seen her need to impress him since she was a little girl. She was smarter than all the boys, faster, stronger, could play better, could read and read better, always wanting to be better than the other kids. Aleera probably had never found the root of why she was so unfulfilled, even though Crimson could tell her of the top of his head. Shayera had won his mutual trust because they held all the same values, and were similar in personality. But in drive Aleera was basically him, minus the funny part. And Crimson would always see that as something problematic as opposed to a positive. “You mean someone else.” Crimson said, folding his arms. “You mean you.” Aleera made a face at his accusation. “What do you mean ‘me?’“ “Don’t play dumb with me, Aleera.” Crimson said, cutting through the bullshit. “You know exactly what you’ve been doing here, and I’m pretty sure everyone in this room has already noticed it. You saw Hakim would never make a competent king in a million years--” “Hey!” Taneth’s ruler protested. “—and you stepped up to fill your mother’s shoes as the woman who had this kingdom in the palm of her hand. Hakim’s your puppet.” The room was dead silent. “And I’ve done a good job.” Aleera finally spoke. “I’ve kept this nation together.” “At what cost?” He shook his head. “Two years I’ve been gone, short enough for the smell of any farts I left behind ta still linger. I thought I raised you all well, I thought you all were ready. You’re grown adults in your own right. And look what’s happened. Tidon’s starting a world war, Jasmin’s a murderer from what I hear, and you’re all abusing the monarchy’s power. I didn’t want to come back any more than you all wanted me here, but I can see I was needed to tell you to clean up your act.” Crimson finished, deciding he’d used dad-voice enough. Despite the fact most of the people in this room were out of childhood by thirty or so years, they all looked properly cowed. If you used a weapon infrequently enough, it never lost its edge. “Come on, Shayera.” He said, turning towards the door and striding towards it. “Your fist’s gotta appointment with Tidon’s face. Can’t be mine, that would be child abuse and probably hurt my hand.” ---- It took a day of hard riding to reach Gilane. They encountered no soldiers of any sort, and given recent reports, they were following Tidon’s order to stay inside forts, expecting a possible attack. “Tidon will realize the bluff in a few days or so.” Crimson explained to Shayera as they approached the city, having pointed out the lack of any army camped outside. “He’ll spread out again, and probably attack somewhere else next.” “Wasn’t he always going to do that?” “This stalled him. Made him rethink his plans, and gave us time to form our own. Tidon thought he’d backed us into a corner, forced us to attack, when in reality he’d backed himself into a corner thinking we only had one move. He lost the war before it could even be fought.” “So we just, what, walk into the palace and tell him to surrender?” “If we’re here, he’ll immediately think the entire Keshik is nearby, and assume somehow the army got past his forts and he’s finished. It’s all misdirection, Shayera. We’re giving him the finger to grab his attention, and then poking him in the eye with it so that he thinks it’s real deal, when really it’s a fake finger.” “Huh?” “Here, we’re approaching the gate.” Crimson said, pointing to the massive closed gate through the city wall into Gilane. As they approached, it was clear there was a checkpoint of sorts, to enter. Five Janissaries in their red lacquered armor stood guard at the gate. There were no travelers at the moment, so it was impossible to know their purpose. In the distance, an Oblivion Gate was visible, although their were no soldiers guarding it that he could tell. The Gate could easily be viewed from the city walls, but the lack of any eyes on it worried Crimson. “That a problem?” Shayera asked. For second, he thought she meant the Gate, but then realized she was talking about the Janissaries.. “Nah, come on, the guards always let you in. I’ve been a fugitive five, maybe six times in my life, and they never ask you to take your mask off. Common courtesy, I think. Or maybe they assume I’m real ugly it. ‘Course, that isn’t possible, since I’m so beautiful I glow.” “Let’s just get past the guards.” Shayera said, as the pair of them approached the gate. The Janissaries watched them approach, and said nothing until Crimson and Shayera had pulled their horses to a stop next to the little booth the Janissaries were set up in. One of them stood out front, two more in the booth, and two more sitting in chairs outside the booth. All five of them looked equally bored. “Evening, gents.” Crimson said, tipping an imaginary hat to them. “Can me and my fine young friend here get into the city?” The Janissary nodded. “You just need to remove your masks first.” “I’m sorry?” Crimson said. “Your masks. New city ordnance.” “Hey, Yaris.” One of the sitting Janissaries spoke up to the one Crimson was speaking with. “I think that’s the Crimson Archer.” Yaris turned around. “What?” “The Crimson Archer. Mercenary leader the Warden told us to look out for. Reason we have the ordnance.” Yaris turned back around, frowning at Crimson. “Is it?” “Yeah. He’s wearing red, got a mask, has a bow, white horse. Pretty much fits the description.” “Seriously? This is him?” Yaris asked, frowning. “Wouldn’t he be an old dude? He was running around Taneth before we were born.” “Can’t see if he’s an old dude, he’s wearing the mask.” “Right. Hey, friend, take off your mask.” Yaris said to Crimson. Shayera and her father shared a look. “I’m not the Crimson Archer.” Crimson said, turning back to the guy. “You sure?” The Janissary asked. “You look a lot like’em.” “Yeah, because, how could the Crimson Archer.” Crimson said, reaching up and pulling off his mask. “Also be a king?” “Whaaaattt.” Yaris mumbled, looking confused, then bowing, sub-ordinance drilled into him. “Lord Sahir. We didn’t know you were coming. Or that you be dressed like so.” Crimson opened his mouth to provide an excuse, but was spoken over. “Dressed like the Crimson Archer.” The sitting one said, although he was only half paying attention. “The old king can’t be the Crimson Archer, that doesn’t make any sense.” Yaris argued, turning to the sitting Janissary again. “Has anyone ever seen them together at the same time? If not, maybe he is the Crimson Archer.” “No, ‘cause no one’s seen the Crimson Archer in a long time.” “Can I get into the city now?” Crimson asked. “Oh, of course, sire, sorry for holding you up. Jak and Regs,” Yaris barked at two of the Janissaires, “wind the gate open.” The two men in the booth went to work on a crank, and slowly the gates began to open, creating a gape wide enough for the two riders to fit through. “I’m telling you, anyone could be the Crimson Archer.” The sitting Jannisary said as Crimson and Shayera rode past. “Two people wearing masks. Could be more down the line.” “Just ‘cause you’re wearing mask don’t make you the Crimson Archer.” “Yeah, but he had the bow, and the uniform…” The two Janissaries’ voices faded out. “What was that?” Shayera asked in a whisper as they made it into the city. “I honestly don’t know.” Gilane was a bustling town, much different from Taneth. It was much more a port city than Taneth was. Various boat craftsmen moved about, many vendors selling fish could be seen. Clothing lacked the highlights of red Taneth fashion was known for, and instead were more muted, such as faded blues, greens, or browns. Fabric were thinner, but not loose like Taneth’s clothes were, and people walked around with more exposed than one would in Taneth. The guards, instead of being armed with Orichcalcum scimitars, had steel spears and painted iron round shields, and wore lamellar armor. The architecture still made gratuitous use of domes, but buildings were wider and not as tall as those in Taneth. Gilane was primarily flat, not winding and hilly as Taneth was, but it’s palace rose high into the sky. Gilane’s royal palace sat at the center of the city, separated from the masses by courtyards, as opposed to a royal quarter occupying a section of the city as in Taneth. “It’s nice.” She said, just as bells started to toll throughout the city, sounding an alarm. Both Crimson and Shayera turned, looking to the wall. Voices echoed down. “Daedra!” They heard a Janissary cry from the wall, and the distant figures of soldier could be seen running up and down along . “Deadra from the Gate!” “That’s not good.” Crimson muttered, as the city streets began to surge with panic. Crimson and Shayera, on their horses, were above it all, as citizens dashed for their homes. They cantered off to the side, staying out of the way of the frantic city goers. “I don’t suppose this’ll lure Tidon out of his palace?” Shayera wondered aloud. “Probably the opposite.” Crimson said. “I want you to check out that Oblivion Gate. This is a good opportunity.” “What? How is this an opportunity?” “Well, they say a problem is an opportunity that has yet to present itself, and from where I’m sitting pretty, it looks like darn big problem.” “What do you want to do?” Shayera asked. “Leave Tidon to me. Show the Janissaries who you are. They’ll follow the princess of Taneth who also happens to be trained field commander. Push back the Daedra. You’ve got a full force of elite infantry troops at your fingers tip, and an opportunity to use them. Take them into the gate, and shut it down.” “And you’re going to head to the palace? Alone?” “Don’t look so surprised. It’ll be better this way. Me alone will put Tidon off his game.” Shayera frowned. “If you say so.” Crimson waved his hand at her. “Go, now.” Shayera nodded. “Good luck.” And then she jerked Bells’ reins, and was off. “Just you and me, buddy.” Crimson said to Whistles. “One last time, unto the abyss, yeah?” Whistles snorted, rolling his eyes. “What do you mean I’m being naïve?” He pranced a bit kicking the ground with his hooves nervously. “Bah, what do you know about anything, you’re a horse.” Crimson whipped the reins, and the two of them started off down an alley. Slowly at first, taking winding streets inward, towards the center of the city and thus the palace. Eventually he reached the courtyard, replaced his mask and hopped down off Whistles. The palace was grand, with three massive domes rising over three separate wings of the palace. Columns held up hallways and thoroughfares that were open to the air, and fountains and gardens decorated the palace. It was beyond gorgeous. Crimson slid off Whistles’ back, and replaced his mask. “If I’m late… just do you thing.” He told the horse. Whistles neighed and lowered his head, exhaling. Crimson pulled a bow and quiver from their respective places on Crimson’s saddle, and slung the latter up over his head while gripping the other in his left hand. Armed with a bow, he proceeded to the palace. Two Janissaries stood guard at a pair of columns, which lead into the palace interior. “Hey, you!” They shouted at Crimson as he calmly approached them. They drew their swords. “You can’t--” He calmly pulled an arrow from his back and fired it through the thigh of one of them as he walked. The man went down, holding his leg and screaming in both pain and surprise. The second made to charge Crimson, and the Archer casually fired an arrow at the area just above the man’s hand. The arrow slammed into the cross guard of the Janissary’s sword, sending the weapon clattering from his hand. The soldier had a moment to look down at his hand, then look over at where his sword had landed, before Crimson whacked him across the brow with his bow. The Archer kicked the other Janissary in the face for good measure as he entered the palace. The hallway he entered was dim, and made up of slabs of marble. Delicate inlays decorated the floors, walls, and ceilings, which drew Crimson’s attention until he entered into the massive Gilanean hall. He looked up in awe at the vaulted ceiling with its stained glass windows and domed roof, the massive columns which held the thing up. He walked to the giant throne that dominated the room, with its thirteen steps leading up to it, and seat that was too large for a person. “I gotta get me one of these.” Crimson muttered, glancing around. He noticed a discernable lack of Tidon. You come all the way out to visit your son, you’d expect he shows up. Crimson thought dryly. Footsteps echoed from the hall’s center behind him, the weight and sound of them belonging to someone in full armor. Crimson turned towards the source. “Hello, father.” ---- Shayera and her remaining Janissaries entered to the Sigilium Sanguis. Upon pushing back the Daedra, mainly lesser Daedra such as Scamps, Flame Atronachs, or Spider Daedra, Shayera and the Janissaries she’d rallied had passed hesitantly into the gate. None had been prepared for the nightmarish world that had awaited them. She’d entered with fifty men, not a great sum, but Janissaries were incredibly skilled, and now only had half that. The various monsters—Daedroths, Xivilai, Dremora—had picked her men off one by one. One of the Janissaries had even had his throat slit open by a hostile plant, of all things. Put they had prevailed, and where at the top of the tower, at the center of the Oblivion Gate. Only it was too easy. These things took armies to hold off. And fifty men made it through with only fifty percent casualties. That sounded like a lot, but when fighting Daedra, you expected the worst. “Reports say we have to grab the stone.” Shayera said, pointing to the thing floating in the center of the room. “You mean the thing floating in a column of fire?” One Janissary spoke up. “With all due respect, your highness, you can bloody well make me.” “Anyone here not dickless?” Shayera asked, proceeding towards the stone, the Janissaries on her heels, cautious, poised to fight. They stopped about ten feet from the stone, not eager to get near it. “I’ll do it.” One Janissary said, stepping forwards. He was tall, and powerfully built, and carried an Orcish greatsword. Shayera nodded to him. The man approached it, sliding his sword into the sheath on his back, and reached for the stone. Through the opening above him, something dropped down. Shayera’s looked up at the flash of movement, saw it coming. “Look out!” The Janissary looked up too, but a moment late. The man’s top half slid away, cleaved directly through, and the soldier’s lower body dropped unceremoniously to the floor. A figure stood over the dismembered corpse. And that was it. The killer was like a shadow made almost solid. It’s outline was indistinct and wispy, but it was large, and there were lines to it. It was vaguely human, with definite shoulders, thick arms and chest, and a head, but the similarities ended there. It was massively tall, a little over seven feet, and it held a great sword forged from midnight in hit’s right hand. The blade was a foot shorter than the figure was tall. The Janissary’s froze, watching this creature, as it slowly moved towards them. There was a viscous cry, and seven of the soldiers charged forwards at once, in attack formation. The shadow warrior slashed outwards towards his first victim. The Janissary blocked the blow, but then the blade’s tip danced around the block and opened the Janissary’s throat. A second tried to come at the shadow from the back, but the blade flew up through the air as the shadow swung it in an arc, and brought it down on the soldier’s head. The shadow cleaved through the soldier’s head with it’s next stroke, bring the blade directly into the side of another Janissary, cutting that man clean in half like it had the first. The remaining four fell back, retreating to their larger numbers. The shadow advanced. The Janissaries formed ranks and attacked. What Shayera saw next, she would later reflect on with cool clarity, was undoubtedly the worst moment of her entire life. She watched as the creature slaughtered twenty-one elite soldiers, warriors who trained from the age of twelve in the Way of the Sword, without suffering a single blow. It slapped attacks aside casually, and delivering counterattacks with brutal efficiency. Every strike that fell from the shadow’s blade was killing, and Shayera watched, frozen in shock, as the Janissaries were dismembered, torn apart, decapitated, ripped in half. The shadow impaled of the soldiers on a spike and left the man there screaming. Another it lifted by the throat and used the man as an impromptu weapon. The soldier was weightless in its grip as it used the body of one Janissary to club to death another. The puddle of gore following that display was unimaginable, and only vaguely resembled the two humans that made it up. The shadow whirled, cutting clean through a Janissary’s blade as the soldier tried to block and then through the man’s neck. His head went flying off like a top, following a fountain of blood. The final two Janissary’s backed up. The shadow threw its sword at one. The blade sailed directly through the man’s chest, and sent him flying backwards twenty feet. He hid the group, skidded a few feet, and then stopped, blade standing out of his chest. The final Janissary backed up, but didn’t back down. He held his sword, ready to go to his death with honor. Shayera stepped in front of him, baring the shadow’s way. The shadow bore down on her, two feet taller, and it’s shoulders twice as broad as her’s. She pulled her sword from the baldric sheath at the small of her back. It was short cavalry sabre, not meant for dueling up close and personal. The shadow didn’t even look at her weapon, or at least, she didn’t think it did, as the thing lacked eyes. The shadow spoke. “You reek of my enemy.” Its voice was distorted and impossibly deep, and brought to mind someone dragging fingernails over a chalk board. The words didn’t seem to come from where its mouth would be, they merely emanated from the shadow’s direction. “I crossed dimensions and passed through eons of time expecting to find him here, in order to finally destroy the one who destroyed me. And instead I have you.” Shayera said nothing, too frozen with fear to speak or move. She had no illusions she could fight this thing. The sword held out in front of her, warding the shadow off, was more of a gesture of bravery than anything else. “No matter.” The shadow said, holding it’s hand out to the side. “There are many ways to kill man.” Shayera’s eyes followed where the shadow was ‘looking’, and then ducked into a roll, getting out of the way. The Janissary roared, lunging forward, with his sword raised to drive it through the shadow’s chest, seeing an opening. “No!” Shayera cried. The shadow’s sword came speeding through the air like an arrow, and landed with a dull crack in its hand. It carelessly thrust the weapon forwards, and the Janissary practically run up the length of the blade as it was driven through his chest. The soldier went slack, and then slid back off the sword. The shadow turned to her slowly. “I have beaten you.” It said. “In this medium, in your full power, you are subject to my full power.” “Well, you know what they say.” Shayera said to the shadow, scrambling backwards. “It’s not about the dog in the fight, but the fight in the dog." She threw her sword at it, which the shadow backhanded out of the air, but her move had already been made. She dashed for the Sigil Stone. Footsteps sounded behind her as the shadow as what she was doing, and took great lunging strides to catch her. The air rushed behind her, she could feel the sword’s point about to find her back. Shayera screamed, throwing herself through the air, and slamming into the Sigil Stone, wrapping her arms around it. Everything went white. ---- Aleera stewed quietly behind her desk, in one of the offices she’d had set up for herself. All the furniture in it was wooden, polished, and was worth enough to feed and clothe a family comfortably for a year. Her father had shut her out of his plan to take down Tidon. He was trying to take back what she deserved. Couldn’t he see that what she was doing for Taneth was the right thing? Her life hadn’t been easy since he left, he’d left a lot of problems behind, and Aleera was doing her best to mend them. Her father didn’t understand that. For some reason, he couldn’t understand that. Raine knocked on the open door, leaning against the frame. She wore the robes of an Alik’r Warrior, complete with the red cape and blue head covering. A piece of fabric hung lose, so that she could pull it up to cover her face. A belt of knives crossed her torso, and a long bow sat on her shoulder alongside a quiver. A dagger rested in a sheath at her waist. “Come in.” Aleera said. “I’ve got another job for you. You won’t like it. I don’t like it myself. But it’s necessary.” Raine shrugged. Aleera had said similar things before. Aleera knew Raine just considered it rhetoric, so that Aleera wouldn’t feel guilty about having people killed, or that her little sister was the assassin who did it. “What do you want me to do?” The Assassin asked indifferently. Aleera told her. END OF PART 6 Chapter 7 Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:Twelve Stars of Taneth